


Did you seriously just wipe your popcorn fingers on me?

by AbithaGray



Series: Flash Fiction Sam/Rafe [3]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbithaGray/pseuds/AbithaGray





	Did you seriously just wipe your popcorn fingers on me?

There was no better way to end a long day than snuggling up in bed with a big bowl of popcorn watching terrible reality television.

 

Or documentaries. 

 

Or the news.

 

Or cartoons.

 

Sam rolled his eyes.  “Oh my god, Rafe, pick something.”

 

“There’s nothing good on.  I don’t even know why I have cable,” he said, continuing to press the next button casually.  Sam groaned and let his weight fall towards Rafe.  “Samuel, stop it.”

 

“Come on, babe, this is supposed to be relaxing.”

 

“I am relaxed.”

 

Sam blinked and stared up at the ceiling, now having slipped half-flat on his back behind Rafe.  “You’re relaxed,” he said, more of a statement than a question.  Rafe hummed a positive response and kept channel surfing.  _Ugh_.  He stretched out his arm and reached around Rafe to grab at a few pieces of popcorn in the bowl nestled in Rafe’s lap, popping them into his mouth one-by-one.  

 

Rafe felt Sam’s fingers on his back, and it took him just a moment to straighten up and drop his hand down to the top of his thigh.  “Samuel.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“ _Samuel_.”  Rafe heard him moan in annoyance - a sound akin to a whining child.

 

“Samuel did you seriously just wipe your popcorn fingers on me?  On my silk fucking pajamas?”

 

Sam slowly pushed himself up from behind Rafe, his left arm still behind him and bearing his weight.  Maintaining a deadpan expression and not breaking eye contact, Sam reached back into the bowl and brought up a piece of popcorn to his mouth and placed it on his tongue, chewing it with purpose.  He then, with intention Rafe would otherwise be proud of, reached to Rafe’s chest and, positioning his index and middle finger over his heart, proceeding to drag the salt and butter across the soft fabric down towards Rafe’s navel.

 

Rafe’s eyes narrowed.

 

“We don’t have napkins,” Sam said, shrugging.  Rafe smirked.

 

“I left them downstairs on purpose.”  Sam arched a brow.

 

“Why, so you could get me into trouble wiping my fingers on the blankets?”

 

“No.”  Rafe brought his own fingers up to Sam’s lips.  He parted them just enough for Rafe to slip his salty, buttery digits inside and pressed them into Sam’s tongue.  

 

“ _Oh_.”


End file.
